


thunder

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Extra Treat, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: The thunder rolls on overhead but, for once, Marcus is almost certain that it is just a storm. They do happen sometimes, with no help at all from demons or demonic activity.Some storms are harder to weather.





	thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElysiumsFalling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElysiumsFalling/gifts).



> A teeny tiny bite-sized extra treat based on a single word I read somewhere on your prompts, which was 'thunderstorms'. Hope you enjoy!

The thunder rolls on overhead but, for once, Marcus is almost certain that it is just a storm. They do happen sometimes, with no help at all from demons or demonic activity. What he isn’t certain of, however, is if the roof of the flea-bitten motel they have chosen will survive the wind that is whipping around the building, or the deluge that is pouring down on top of it. 

At least their room is on the ground floor, with only the possibility of a little flooding to really trouble them. 

He gets out of the shower and dresses in his only dry shirt and Tomas’ spare sweatpants. They haven’t had much time to do any laundry in the last few weeks. They haven’t had time to do _anything_. Tonight will be the first chance that they’ve had to sleep since the previous weekend, and he is sure that even the storm won’t be enough to keep either of them awake.

Tomas is standing at the window, looking out at the storm. His shoulders are slumped, but at least he is eating a slice of the pizza that they picked up on the way here. He hasn’t been eating much at all. 

Marcus grabs his own slice and goes to stand beside him. The lightning is definitely something, out here in the middle of nowhere, with no streetlights to ruin the effect. It lights up Tomas’ face, playing across the lines on his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes, the fresh scar on his chin that is still healing. 

“My abuela always used to say that thunderstorms were just God’s way of letting us know that he was still there, watching us,” Tomas said. “Have you ever seen a Mexican thunderstorm?”

_Gabriel died in a Mexican thunderstorm._

“A few.”

“Luis is terrified of storms,” Tomas closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the glass. “And nothing I ever said could stop him being afraid. Not even Abuela’s story.”

Marcus rests a hand against Tomas’ back and eats his pizza, because he is hungry and there is nothing that he can say that will help right now. But he watches the tears slide down Tomas’ face instead of watching the lightning rent the sky in two, and wishes that he _could_ find some words that would help.


End file.
